


stuck in the middle (with you)

by Skyepilot



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Arguing, Complicated Relationships, Cute, Declarations Of Love, Eating, F/M, Fear, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Humor, Implied Relationships, Inhumans (Marvel), Kissing, Mutual Pining, Older Man/Younger Woman, Pining, Romance, Sappy, Skye | Daisy Johnson's Superpowers, Sokovia Accords, Speculation, Supernatural Elements, Team as Family, Xenophobia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-06
Updated: 2016-08-06
Packaged: 2018-07-29 05:19:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7671628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skyepilot/pseuds/Skyepilot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Daisy and Coulson are caught between opposing forces, and find themselves stuck in the middle together.  I don't even really know what this is, but it got very plotty.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The New Director (complicates everything)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [BrilliantlyHorrid](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BrilliantlyHorrid/gifts).



> This is for Brilliantlyhorrid, because it started as a funny response to a Parks and Rec tumblr post about a guy having a thing for girls in rollerskates and I just applied it to Coulson's thing for superheroes. And thus, an overly long and plotty fic was born.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Coulson goes on the defense when Talbot tries to hash out his relationship with Daisy.

“Did you see what she did?  The kind of damage she can do?”

Talbot seems shocked.  He imagines that probably comes very easy to someone like Talbot.  He’s always reacting. 

Or incensed?  Maybe that’s a better choice of word.

They’re leaving the Director’s office, and Talbot has worked himself up into a tizzy over this, like a wind-up toy.

“Why, because you can’t control her?” he asks, stopping in the middle of the hallway.

Talbot narrows his eyes, makes sure that he knows he’s taller than him, as he glares downward.

“What, and you think _tha_ t guy can?” he asks, pointing his finger back towards the way they came.  At the new Director’s office.

His old office.

“Probably not,” he replies, smiling just enough, not wanting to give too much away.

Because, Talbot went directly to the UN, at one point. To put SHIELD in international crosshairs.  He’s still not even sure he was ever at the Inhuman symposium because he was really on their side.

It was just because things got out of his control.  But, hey, he gets it.

“They’re just like us,” he replies, evenly. “Only-“

“Us?” Talbot scoffs, pointing his finger down at him and poking him in the chest.  “Us- _we_ don’t pull a bridge off its hinges just by-“ 

He sputters for a moment, probably because he’s caught the eyebrow raised at his display, amused.

“What?” he asks him, with a tilt of his head. Baiting.

“This!”  He waves his hand out in front of him, copying the gesture he’s seen Daisy do. _Quake_ do.

“You make it look _so_ uncool,” he tuts, crossing his arms in disapproval.

Talbot’s whole mouth turns upside down, except for his mustache.  It stays put.

“Is this _funny_ to you?” he asks, lowering his voice.  “This guy wants me to unleash the National Guard on her.  How is that for funny?”

Talbot keeps up the DEFCON 3 face, until he sighs, and starts to turn away from him, continue down the hall.

This has been mildly entertaining, but they’re attracting too much attention, and no doubt, this new Director has eyes and ears on them both.

“You saw what she did.  The destruction,” he adds, following after. “How can you ignore that?”

“What?” he turns on him at once when they’ve rounded the corner. Away from eyes and ears (as much as you can be in a place like this). “Property damage to stop a bunch of homegrown terrorists from hunting people like her?”

Talbot narrows his eyes.

“Who was looking out for _them_?” he asks, feeling his teeth grind. “Other than _her_?”

Talbot looks a little shocked again. At his tone, at him stepping back into his space. That’s when he realizes he’s had enough for today.

“Let me guess. _Your_ guys,” he goes on. “When _they’re_ doing the right thing, they always get it right?  No property damage? Really?!”

Both of their phones beep simultaneously, a moment of de-escalation, and they pull them out together to check in.  
  
"See? She’s at it again," Talbot groans, looking down at his screen. "Bank robbery?!” he says, thoroughly appalled, as he flicks through his screen. “Is that how SHIELD does things?"  
  
Possibly.  When he was Director, he might have made that call.

Then he stares down at his own screen, distracted, at her face frozen on the security footage. 

She looks...different. But again, as he scrolls through the report, no casualties. And he has a feeling he knows what this is about.

It's the bank Hive put Malick's money in. A bold move, trying to take it all back.  He forwards on the message and then puts the phone back in his pocket nonchalantly.

“You’re enjoying this,” Talbot says, accusing.  “You like being around these powered-“

“How is Carl Creel doing?” he interrupts, before he can say the word.  _Freaks_. “Is that still working out for you?”

“Oh, no you don’t,” Talbot warns, pointing the phone at him. “He chose a side.”

“Yes,” he nods. “ _Yours_.”

“Do you even _care_ if she’s on our side, _Agent_ Coulson?  Or are you too busy geeking out over your girl using her powers to piss off this new Director?”

That gets him an instant frowny face.  No, it’s not about that.

Mostly. 

Okay.  A little bit.

“So, you weren’t impressed by Creel?”

“I have _controls_ on Creel,” Talbot shoots back, shoving his phone away into his dress uniform.  “As you well know.”

"I don't need to control her. She'll do the right thing."  
  
"You probably actually believe that.” Talbot almost sneers at the idea. “You're admitting it, then. You don't really want to catch her."  
  
"I'd like to, before someone like the Director does." He pauses. "Which, how should I thank you for that contribution?"

"That wasn't me," he answers, looking a bit guilt-ridden, and he gets the impression that Talbot is about to say something well-intentioned, that he doesn’t want to-

“Y’know, one guy to another.  For people who have been doing this as long as we have,” he goes on. “Your face gives it all away.”

-hear.  Yeah. He doesn’t need this right now.

“I wasn’t sure, at first,” Talbot goes on. “I mean, if my kid did all this stuff, he’d be grounded.  But, not you.  You _like_ it.  You _like_ watching her game them...don’t you?”

“It’s not like that,” he shakes his head, immediately, looking away.  Nope.

“Not like… _what_?” Talbot asks slowly, now even more curious.  Oops.  “Are you _helping_ her?”

 He stares back at him, like he’s firing a warning shot.

“You know what,” he interrupts, raising his hands. “I have no idea, and I really don’t want to know.”

This is usually the point where he says something pithy and cocky to throw these kinds of questions off balance.  Say the thing they want to hear, that makes the most sense to them.

“What’s your thing with powered people?” Talbot blurts out, disgusted.

He feels his eyes widen.  “My _thing_?” he asks, just to be clear.      

“Yes.  Do you prefer their company?”

Talbot's always been the sort of person he's tolerated, based on immediate like interests.

It's the sort of thing that makes him question, now, about whether that time has passed.

"You will _never_ control her. She's not your weapon."

"Because she's _yours_?"  
  
No. He won't say that. Not because he doesn’t want to.  
  
It’s because he might say too much.


	2. Lola (needs a little love)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daisy meets Robbie Reyes and he sees into her soul.

Yes, she took Lola.

She’s not going to feel bad about it, though.  Okay, she’s not going to return Lola because she feels _that_ bad about it.

Lola is _not_ SHIELD property.  She belongs to Coulson.  And since Coulson isn’t Director now. The new guy?

He can’t touch her.

Coulson understands.  He _has_ to. 

What he’s not going to understand is the damage she took when they made it out of the hangar together and left SHIELD behind.

That’s not _her_ SHIELD.  And it’s not _his_ , either.  Even if he did stay.

The word on the street is that this guy is the best at what he does.  Street racer on the side, and a really gifted mechanic.

She’s here about the gifted part.  Too many reports in the vicinity, and she’s cased the place for weeks.  Sure enough, the FBI is sniffing around, onto the same trail, and she waited until their trail went cold before moving in.

Not SHIELD, though.  The new Director is too interested in taking her down to cast the net wider.  She’s the one.  And she’s set him on a wild goose chase on the opposite coast, with Elena’s help.

Too busy with his singular hunt to protect people like her.

And what’s she’s looking for _are_ people like her, who could potentially be flagged as targets under the expanded Sokovia Accords.  Or, for the Watchdogs.

This is what she does now.  That’s the mission.

It’s not hard to be whatever she has to be in order to keep her promise. She’s been doing it all her life, without knowing why.  Even though it started with her, and her past.

Not just to herself, but for Charles. For his daughter, Robin.  They never had a choice. 

It’s simply who they were born to be.

While Lola isn’t _exactly_ low profile, with fake plates and some of that HYDRA money put to good use, she rolls up to the garage looking like someone who would drive a vintage convertible sports car.

It’s Los Angeles, after all.

She hears the low whistle and puts her in park as the young man walks up to the car, and brushes his hand over her bodywork with the confidence of someone who knows something already.

"Damn.  That’s a pretty car."

"I heard you're real good with vintage," she smiles, opening the door, and planting her heel on the ground.

He eyes her suspiciously at that. Because the Feds have been giving him too much attention. That’s why it’s going to be her way in.

"I work on all kinds of cars,” he answers, motioning back towards the shop, wiping oil off his hands from the rag in his pocket.

“I bet you do,” she smirks, stepping out and closing the door. “Robbie, right?”

He smiles for a moment, the kind of smile she recognizes, the kind she’s done many times before, then turns away.  Lining up his options right now.

“Look. I'm really busy, lady,” he tells her, tossing the rag down to the ground. “What do you want?”

Probably _very_ tired of strangers asking him too many questions, for one. With implied threats behind them. She knows what that's like, too. He's just not really good at hiding it.

Yet.

She takes the aviator sunglasses off, and feels her powers buzzing in her, ready, as she circles him to make eye contact. Doing her best impression of a charming-

When it feels all at once, like the ground is being swept out from under her.

It’s not like her visions from Charles. This is threatening, and darker. It feels old, like someone’s inside her head again. 

Something starts to swell up inside of her. This automated defense system she’s been struggling to control since Hive-

“Stop!” she says with a warning, leaning back against Lola for support, when he tries to take a step towards her.

“Is this a setup?” he asks, on edge, bouncing a bit.  “I didn’t do anything!  Hey, you’re bleeding,” he goes on, as he reaches towards her.

She runs her hand against her nose and sees the blood there. “What are you?”

His back is turned to her again, but he twists over his shoulder, eyeing her indirectly. “If I told you, you wouldn’t believe me,” he finally stammers out.

“Try me,” she says flatly, wiping the blood off onto the skirt of her dress, to his disturbed expression.

“Un espíritu de venganza,” he quickly answers.

“I’m still learning Spanish,” she apologizes, awkward. “I’m sorry can you transl-“

“A spirit of vengeance.”

“Great,” she nods, closing her eyes for a moment.  It’s perfect.  Of course. “Can your ‘spirit of vengeance’…chill out for, like, a moment?"

“It doesn’t work that way,” he tells her, looking around the garage and bringing her a clean rag from the work table. “I’m sorry. I don’t control it.” 

He blinks a few times before bending and risking a look at her more closely “What are you?” he whispers.

“I’m like you,” she tells him, muffled, holding the rag to her nose.

“Oh. Wow,” he says, shaking his head, hands on his hips. “God. I hope not.”

She waves him off as he tries to help her to a chair, holding the rag to her face.

“On a scale of 1 to 10, how much in trouble are you?” he says, once she’s settled, and kicks the heels off her feet.

“ _I'm_ not the one in trouble,” she frowns.

“Did you steal the car?”

“No!”

“So it’s _your_ car?”

She sighs. “Joint custody.”

“You don't seem like the joint custody type,” he says, too familiar, tapping his foot against the pavement.

“Oh, really?” she shoots back, staring hard at his back. “And how do you know that?”

“Because,” he answers, very politely. “I saw inside your soul, and-“

“Hey!” she says, standing up, pointing a finger at him. “No looking into my soul, alright?”

“Lo hice sin culpa. It just happens.”

“You just _casually_ stare into people's souls?” she huffs, eyes darting around the garage, trying to get her bearings.  This isn’t why she came here. “Ugh, I feel like I'm back in St. Agnes.”

“Catholic girl, huh?”

She risks rounding him to stare at him again, just to give his smug expression a withering glare.

He freezes for a moment, then seems pleased, almost joyful, when she doesn't react in overwhelming terror.

“Whose car is it _really_?” he asks slyly. “Your ex? 

She rolls her eyes and sinks back down into the chair.

“It’s not like-“ she starts, then drops it.  After all, his powers. “It’s complicated.”

“Sometimes people are connected in inexplicable ways,” he says, gesturing to Lola.

“Even through objects.”


	3. Friends (don't let you down)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mack and Coulson eat and talk. About Daisy.

“Oh look, it eats.”

“Ha ha,” he replies, finally taking a bite of the tuna sandwich.

“And it talks.  Who would’ve thought?” Mack asks, sitting down across from him at the small table, dropping his sandwich on it.

“This new Director _sucks_ ,” Coulson says, pausing to grimace, taking apart his sandwich, pulling the onions off while making a face. “Worse than onions.”

“Sorry, man.  I told them no onions.” Mack says, opening up a bag of chips for them to share.

“Sending the National Guard in after her? While she’s saving lives?  And he’s packing away Inhumans, like that makes him some kind of hero?”

“Some of those people need to learn to control their powers,” Mack says seriously, with his mouth full.

“I’m not denying that,” Coulson answers, chewing.  “ _She_ could train them. It _could_ be her, if he wasn’t so interested in a damn witch hunt.  He just wants to make an example of her.”

“That guy’s not going to catch Daisy,” Mack tells him, crunching on a chip.  “May? That’s another story.”

“May’s not going to lift a finger for that guy.  She’s just trying to make sure people don’t get hurt.”

“I didn’t say she would help the guy, just that she could catch up with her,” he shrugs, and takes another bite.

“Meaning, I can’t?” He puts the sandwich down and glares.

“We both know you’re not trying to catch her,” Mack says, wiping some crumbs off the corner of his mouth with his pinkie.

“ _We_?”

“Man, look at that thing,” he nudges, holding the napkin in his hand while pointing over Coulson’s shoulder.

It’s his board, leaned against the hotel wall. News headlines with her, the surveillance photos.  The map detailing her cross-country adventures.

“You miss her,” he says pointedly. “That’s all.”

His eyes drop back down and he pushes the sandwich in front of him away.

“Better not ever let _her_ see that thing,” Mack laughs to himself. “I can only imagine her face, if she saw-” He smiles a little, then notices Coulson’s expression. “Phil, I’m joking, alright?”

“I just want to know that she’s okay.”

“She’ll come around,” he tells him, putting his hand on his shoulder. “When she’s ready.”

“That’s if the Director doesn’t get to her first.”

“We could always help her,” Mack says, folding up the papers and stuffing them down into the to-go bag. “You’ve collected plenty of evidence, to exonerate her.”

“That’s why we’ve been reassigned.  They want me out of the way.”

“Hey,” he answers, ducking his head down so Coulson will look at him. “You’re my partner.  I’m not giving up on you. Or my last partner.”

“You always dreamed of that office in the basement?” he jokes.

“I used to work in the engine room of a ship. I don’t mind tight quarters.”

Coulson smirks a little at that.  He and Mack sharing a little desk in some windowless office. It has its charms.

“We have any of that scotch left?” he tosses out, following Mack over his shoulder as he stands up to cross the room.

“That’s the last thing you need,” Mack answers, as Coulson stretches his back out in the chair. “Why don’t you shave for once?  Think about what you’re gonna say when you see her again?”

“It’s that bad, huh?” He stands up with a groan and makes his way towards the bathroom, and stops, to see Mack looking at a photo in his hands.

It’s from the base, when they were still a team.  Elena is in it.

“Guess that makes two of us,” he smirks, putting his hand on Mack’s shoulder. “Where did you get this?”

“Surveillance footage,” Mack sighs.  “Fitz got me access.” And he flips the edge of the photo against his fingers.

Coulson looks at Daisy, standing next to Lincoln and she’s looking at him, but he can see her head is somewhere else.

Then, he sees himself.  The way he’s looking at her.  He closes his eyes.

Talbot was right.


	4. Family (it's complicated)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Coulson and Daisy talk in Robbie's room.

“Sometimes, I wish I didn't _feel_ so much.”

“Then you’d be numb,” he answers right back, like he already knows, and then finds a spot on the wall and stares, intensely.

“I’m just trying to help,” she replies, wondering if this is too heavy of a conversation for the moment.

Her eyes follow his and see the poster on the bedroom wall. An art exhibition, several decades old, celebrating Frida Kahlo.

On the yellowed paper, there’s the image of the artist sitting beside herself; their hands linked, tubes of blood connecting a past version to the present. 

“You _are_ helping,” he manages, biting his bottom lip, still stuck on the poster.

She drags her eyes away from it, because the reason he’s here _now_ is because he lost consciousness in the middle of drag-out fight between them and the Watchdogs.

Because Robbie couldn’t control _it_.

Explaining the _why_ to him seemed like a better thing left to them, rather than SHIELD. Given the circumstances.

“What about you?” she asks him, hoping to get his mind back here.

Her eyes glance at his chest, for only a moment, but the connection is already made. The trail of breadcrumbs he picks up on immediately.

“I ask myself the same questions,” he tells her, nodding, his heavy gaze on her again. “But...I'm not the one being hunted.”

This is easier.  This is clear, and she gives him a reasonable sigh.

“So you want me to come back,” she tells him.

“No.”

Then he shakes his head, like he's trying to convince himself. Wrestling with it, just like she’s doing. If he didn’t want her back, why has he been chasing after her all this time?

“I just...I wanted to see you. Talk...”

“Talk?” she repeats, her brows coming together. “About what? SHIELD? The Accords?”

“No,” he says again.

“Then, what?”

The bedroom door opens and Robbie's brother, Gabe, pokes his head in. “Dinner! Mac and cheese.”

They both smile at the kid's huge grin. They can't help it.  Their eyes meet at the same time, and it dissolves some of the tension.

“Gabe,” Daisy says to him, standing and walking to the door. “I can't wait to eat mac and cheese with you guys.” She brushes her fingers through his hair. “But, Phil and I just need to talk right now. Okay?”

“Okay,” he answers, peering in at Coulson, then pushes his hands against the wheels of his chair to turn in the hallway.  She shuts the door after he’s gone.

When she walks back towards him, Coulson’s smiling at her. He stands up off the bed, and picks up his mangled coat from where it’s laid atop the dresser.

“What are you doing?” she asks.

He moves closer to her, and puts his hand against her arm. “I should go.”

“What?” she asks, taken aback. “No.  You need to understand this.”

“No, I don’t,” he tells her. “You’re okay.  This,” he says, looking around at Robbie’s room. “It’s nice.”

“Coulson, I get what a head trip this is,” she says, dismissing his deflection. “It was for me at first, too.”

“ _They_ seem really nice. Except, for Robbie saying he stared into my soul, and that I don't have one,” he winces. “Not the first time I’ve been accused of that.”

He drops his hand to his side and sighs at her expression.

“That’s not what he said,” she shakes her head. “I know it’s confusing, but-“

“I've learned to accept that things can't always be explained.”

“What if there _is_ an explanation?”

“Daisy, you can do this, without SHIELD complicating it for once.”

“SHIELD is important,” she says, turning around to follow him. “With the right people leading it. And I don't want SHIELD. Without you in it.”

“Daisy, I'm almost twice your age.  And I won’t be here forever.”

“We can do this.  _Together_.  That’s what I’ve always wanted.” She marches up to him, invades his space in a way that demands all of his attention.  “But you _never_ asked. We _never_ talked.”

It gives him pause. “I don’t want to be the thing that holds you back.”

“You’re afraid. To _feel_ too much.  Do you really think you can just walk away? I’d like to see you try.”

“You did.”


	5. Lovers (in the dark together)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daisy and Coulson are stuck together. Forever.

Even after they find out the truth, he still wants to hold her hand.

He finds hers, in the dark, and they crouch. Waiting.

Maybe someone will know they’re here? Hopefully before she’s too weak to keep pressing back the collapsed building as the pressure builds.

“This isn’t your fault,” she says, between her clenched teeth.

“I wanted to know,” he tells her. “I’m only sorry that you were dragged into it.”

“I wanted to know, too,” she answers, feeling the sweat start to drip down her forehead. “For you.”

The light generated by his arm is enough to see by, but it’s not nearly enough.

“You can’t keep this up, Daisy,” he says, squeezing her hand.

She feels her bottom lip start to tremble.  After everything they’ve been through together.  Everything they’ve survived, and fought for.

Robbie said that the thing in him couldn’t touch Coulson.  That he didn’t belong here.

And she knows that’s not true.  He does belong. For _her_.

It’s Fate, and they can fight it, or they can choose it.  Together.

“I’m not giving up,” she answers, quietly.  “I can’t.”

They can’t let these people hide the truth, insinuate their ranks within the population.  People are not _things_.  They’re not replaceable with robots.

His father wasn’t replaceable.  The father who was killed by a person like her, with powers, and SHIELD knowing no different, covering it up. 

Only to have it dangled in front of his face.  Bait, to bring them both together again.

He had every reason to walk away, once he knew the truth. 

But he’s still with her, came running in after her, knowing it was a trap.

What an idiot.

“You’re an idiot, you know?” she says, turning towards him, frustrated by her powers, and what good are they for, if they can’t do this?

She can feel her body pushed to its limits, like she’s consuming herself.

“Daisy.”

She feels his breath on her ear, realizes that the space between them has gotten smaller, that he’s practically curled around her.

“It’s okay,” he tells her, raising up his arm over them.  “Come here.”

“Phil?”

“It’ll stay on,” he tells her, as the shield flashes to life above them, illuminating the space, and she sees how small they are inside of it.  “Until we run out of air.”

“I’m not afraid,” she says, staring up at her hand, shaking with the strain.

“Neither am I.”

When she turns, he’s so close that their lips brush against each other’s.   She lowers her hand, and hears the clattering of the debris against the shield, as she fits herself against him, kissing him.

His mouth trembles against hers, then she realizes it’s his whole body.

“Daisy, I-“

She’s not afraid. 

She has been. That people will see her as some kind of monster.  What it would cost the people she loves.

No.

She was made for this.

#

When she wakes up, there’s light shining in her eyes.  At first she’s not sure where she is, and wonders if she’s on an operating table.

Or dead.

Then she hears the sounds of a helicopter hovering overhead, as her vision starts to focus in the bright sunshine.

She’s not sure how far the debris field goes.  It’s further than she can see. Part of the mountain is gone.

There’s a groaning sound beside her, and she turns to see Coulson next to her, curled into a ball.

“Phil,” she asks, putting her hand on his shoulder, shaking him lightly.  “Are you okay?”

He squints in the sunlight, sitting up and trying to get his bearings, as his eyes go wide.

“Damn.”

“You’re welcome,” she says, standing, and dusting the film off of her suit, as a group of jets flies overhead, in a formation. 

“Friendlies?” he asks.

“Whoever they are, they’ve spotted us,” she answers with a sigh.

“This is kind of hard to miss,” he points out.  Helpfully gesturing around them.  “Are you okay?”

“I feel like I could sleep for a year?”  She stares hopelessly down at his clothes and the state they’re in.

“What you did, Daisy…That was-“

“And there’s that news helicopter,” she interrupts, and points up. “You’re still supposed to be dead, right?”

“Yeah.  Mostly.” His hand goes up to block out the sun as they watch themselves being filmed. “Damn.”

“Phil, you still have time to get away,” she starts.  “I can distract them, and you-“

“No,” he smirks.  “It’s okay. The perks of falling in love with a superhero.”

“I’m not-“ she starts, as he wraps his hands around her waist, goes quiet with surprise when he tugs her against him.

“You’re about to be,” he says sweetly, as he presses his lips against hers.

It’s a nice kiss.  Not fraught with tension and desperation, like when they were about to be buried alive.

He gives a little happy hum, as she wraps her arms around his neck, and presses herself up against him.

The tongue is her idea.

“Hey, not on camera,” he laughs quietly, then beams at her.  They can hear vehicles approaching them.

The lead ATV screeches to a halt, and the door flips open, as Talbot steps out in front of them, tugging on his dress uniform.

He narrows his eyes at them.

“I knew it.”

“There’s something _more_ you might want to know,” Coulson replies, cocky.

“Oh, for the love of-“ he turns around and shouts at his men. “Someone get that news helicopter out of here!  And secure the area!”

Twisting back around to face them he walks in closer, where the others can’t hear.

“That’s quite a display of power,” he tells Daisy.  “It looks like someone dropped a nuke from up there.”

“Could I maybe just have a shower, and something to eat first? It’s been a long day.”

“C’mon, Glen,” Coulson tells him, putting his hand on the small of her back to guide her towards the vehicle. “We’ll debrief you on the way.”

“Debrief me?!” Talbot says, hesitating for a moment before following after them.

“Yes. Oh, and by the way? We’ll be taking SHIELD back now,” he tells him, as he helps her up into the seat.

“Just get in,” he scowls and gestures to his driver. 

“I’m always the last to know.”


End file.
